


I Don’t Want to Fight This War, I Don’t Want to Fight Anymore

by yas_m



Series: You Still Pull Me Home [4]
Category: Blindspot (TV)
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Comfort, F/M, Forgiveness, Future Fic, Hurt, Lies, Speculation, Spoiler fic, post episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 15:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5875714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yas_m/pseuds/yas_m
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spoiler fic based on that heartbreaking 20 second clip from 1.11 / Angst / Jane confronts Weller after being abducted by Carter and finding out the truth from Oscar</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don’t Want to Fight This War, I Don’t Want to Fight Anymore

I tear my eyes away from the screen just long enough to let him know I need him to play it again, and he does, without a word, for the tenth time in a row. And he continues to sit there in silence as I watch in disbelief. Her face, her voice, her words... I've memorised them by now but they still seem foreign even though she looks like, she sounds like me. She is me. But still, she's a stranger. A stranger who wiped my memory and covered me in tattoos. A stranger who sent me to Kurt Weller. 

Kurt. I allow my myself to think of him for just a split second, before I turn back to the man in front of me. 'Again?' He asks but this time I shake my head. I need to get out of here. Now. I'm wet and cold but that's not the reason I cannot breathe. I need to get out of here. 

I tell him to untie me and he does so, almost instinctually, almost as though he's lived a life obey my orders and I wonder what more we were before. What he and the woman in that video were.  
He releases the last of the ropes that had me strapped down and I launch myself at him, fuelled by the rage, by the fear, and with surprise on my side, I send him on his back before he realises what is going on, and I run out of the place. I am acutely aware of Carter’s body on my way out, or of the two other agents, and I pray that Oscar has the foresight to get rid of the bodies instead of coming after me.

I don’t want to go back to the safe house, I want to go to him, to Kurt, but I know that I cannot do that. Not now, not looking like this. I try to think straight as I run through the cold evening, my lungs burn, my muscles ache, and I study every possible scenario of what could happen next. I know Oscar knows where my safe house is but I cannot go anywhere looking like this, not anywhere where I won’t be interrogated, even if it by well meaning friends. 

I find myself at the safe house, sneaking in just enough to change out of my wet clothes, and then I’m back out, casually strolling towards my detail. I’ve decided Patterson is the one to go to, under the pretence of being worried about her, not wanting her to spend the night alone. Even if Oscar follows me there, he is not stupid enough to confront in the home of an FBI agent. I hope.

I ask the guys to stop for pizza on the way, and I try to keep this as casual as possible. Friends do things like that, right? And it works, the evening goes as planned. Patterson cries and talks about David and I try to remember to be the woman I was a few hours ago, not the one burdened by these secrets and lies. I try not to think of Kurt, of what I am going to tell him tomorrow, of how I am going to be able to look him in the eye tomorrow, especially after what happened earlier tonight.

The first thing I do the next morning is go to Mayfair’s office. I need her to relocate me. I am sure Oscar will be find me again, but it will take him some time and I need at least one night where I don’t feel violated. I cannot tell her the truth, obviously, and as I stand outside her office, watching her have a heated debate with Zapata, I think of all the possible ways I can twist this. I watch Tasha for a moment, and she looks different, defeated, and I wonder what could have happened last night with her. How one night can change everything. I for one know way too much about this. My life a few hours ago versus my life now. I allow myself to think back to Carter, what he did and what he could have done. And for a moment, I wish he’d had a chance to do more. What little he did had worked, it had sparked a new memory. If he was allowed to do more, who knows what would have been revealed to me. Not that what was revealed wasn’t shocking enough. I wonder what Dr. Borden would make of this, the idea of using torture to induce memories. I wonder how Kurt would feel about that if I told him.

I focus back on what I am going to tell Mayfair. I can tell her I don’t feel safe, that I feel I’m being watched. My security detail won’t be able to verify that, obviously, but they haven’t noticed me sneaking out for weeks. I can tell Mayfair that, too, I can discredit them. 

I scold myself then. These are good men, good agents, why would I want to sabotage their careers like that?

It goes as planned with Mayfair, she buys it, without any questions, and I wonder if that was what she had planned, for me to become embedded within this team, within the FBI that my loyalty, my integrity is never questioned. I hate what she’s done to me. I hate what she’s doing to me even now. She is still controlling this game, controlling me. And I cannot come to terms with the undeniable fact that she is me. That I am her. Especially not now, as I walk towards Kurt.

I feel the first stab, deep and shattering, when his eyes find mine, when he smiles and I fail to return it. I ask for a moment in private and he leads me to his office. And I cannot stop thinking of last night, of his hand on my cheek, in my hair, of his lips against mine. That had been all real, the only real I’ve felt since waking up in Times Square, and I brace myself to ruin it all.

I cannot tell him the truth and I find myself using David’s death as an excuse. Patterson would hate me if she knew. I hate me for doing this. I appeal to his nature to care about people, try to find an excuse there to stop following my tattoos. If I cannot tell him the truth than at least I can keep him away from finding out. My intentions are selfish, I know, but I cannot do this to him, to any of them. But my plan backfires, he uses the same argument against me, reminds me of all the good we’ve done and for a moment I cannot look at him, not when he reminds me that even if we are not serving the greater, then the case remains of who did this to me, and I can’t breathe then. If only he knew. Only, he can never know.

I suddenly cannot breathe again, I look at him briefly and reminded of how fucked up all this is. It’s all her fault. It’s all my fault. And if I cannot tell him the whole truth, then I can tell him part of it. I cannot do this to you anymore. I cannot hurt you. I would not be able to live with myself if anything happens to you because it is on me, it is all on me.

I wonder what she would think of me doing this now. All that she did, all the sacrifices that she made, leaving the man she loved, erasing her whole life, risking everything for this to work and here I am, not blinking once as I am ready to throw it all away, all her sacrifices, everything she had to do. I do not care about all of it, about her, about me, about my past. She made her sacrifices and I am willing to make mine, to keep him safe. 

But his answer is not what I am looking for but everything I expect from the man I’ve come to know the last few months. And I understand now why she picked him. And I look away from him for a moment because no, he doesn’t, he doesn’t know what he has signed up for. I need to tell him that, take him in my arms and yell at him that no, he doesn’t what he has gotten himself into. I need him for once to think pf himself, to be selfish, to not be so willing to put his own life on the line for others, for me.

I wonder when it happened, when we became more than a victim, an asset and her lead agent. Was it when he placed my hand over his heart or when I did the same? Was it on the plane coming back from capturing Guerrero, when just the feel of skin on mine made me forget the sickening shaking of the plane? Or was it when we went undercover together, when he almost beat up a guy for touching me, when he held me close on the dance floor and finally let me in? Or was it on the sidewalk outside his house last night?

He’s looking at me, confusion stitched on his face, and I know he knows something must have happened between our meeting last night and now. And I find myself thinking of Oscar now. I’ve witnessed his loyalty for the mission, his loyalty to her but I cannot help wondering if that loyalty stems from his commitment to her or the mission itself. Would he put his own life on the line for her? For me? Would he do what Kurt would? Jumping in with his eyes closed?

I turn from him then, not wanting him to see the tears as they threaten to spill. I just want him to be safe, why can’t he see that? I think of how far I am willing to take this. I can go to Mayfair, tell her I want him off my case. I can go to Dr. Borden, tell him I am uncomfortable working with Kurt. And I make myself sick at the thought, at how easily I am contemplating lying, manipulating. And I realise that I am becoming her, and I realise how natural the transition is happening, how comfortably I am falling back into being her, the woman in that video. And I can’t, I just can’t become her. I don’t want to become her, but I cannot think of any other way to keep him safe.  
Without another word, I turn my back and walk away, hoping that maybe one day he can understand.

Maybe one day he can forgive me. But for now, I will have to live with the decisions she made and the decisions I have to make.


End file.
